Animal I Must Become
by Boooyakasha
Summary: Victor Creed did not begin his life as a twisted and sardonic killing machine. It's always cruel fate that crafts monsters, for when hope is crushed, survival kicks in. Everyone has/had a bright side. It just gets lost or buried.


**Hey! So I've wanted to write this for some time now since I really loved the character Victor Creed, not to mention to actor who portrayed him ;) **

**I wanted to do an origins story that may reason as to why Victor had become so cold hearted, unrelenting and embracing his dark side. We all know it was a slow progression but I still feel that he had to have had a dark beginning that would drive him to maintain his beliefs and transform into an 'animal.' **

**I honestly don't know where this story is going or where it will end-most of my stories tend to do that. **

**If you have read my last story-which is currently removing itself from the site- I do apologize for having left it unfinished…life visited my doorstep and put up a huge road block. I do aim to finish it….at some point in the future…Anyways, pleeeaaase r & r, it helps me to write more. Enjoy!**

An intense feeling of despair washed over 7 year old Victor Creed as he knelt beside the lifeless form of his mother, scanning her familiar face over and over again, desperate to catch a glimpse of life from her.

He had been with her for hours now, unable to accept the fact that she would _never _stir, _never _smile and _never _wrap him into that loveable hug that he cherished so much in his short, miserable life.

As he continued to stare, large raindrops began pelting noisily over his head, seeping through the many holes in the tin roof and beginning to pool on the dirt floor around and on them.

He'd never stood a chance, there had been no hope from the very beginning.

Victor scanned her face again, as his small hand clutched at her pale fingers, too small to hold her entire hand.

He continued to beg and plead for her to awaken from her slumber just to tell him that everything would be alright, that they would make it and that she loved him.

When this attempt did nothing to rouse her, Victor quickly began to feel guilty, that perhaps it was _his _fault that she had chosen to ignore him.

He racked his memory for anything he could think of to apologize for, tears streaming down his small face as he knelt in the dirty puddles forming at her dusty bed, promising to do better by her and be a good son.

He even listed on his fingers the promises he would fulfil, his squeaky voice cracking with thick emotion, but still she showed no desire to acknowledge him.

Victor heaved a small sob and collapsed into a ball, his forehead resting on the edge of the already filthy mattress that they'd pulled into the shack only weeks before.

Trying to regain himself, Victor wiped his tattered sleeve over his runny nose and red, watery eyes, glancing around himself nervously before returning his full attention to her.

He wasn't too concerned that anyone would show up since they lived at the edge of a small town and had no friends or relatives to be heard of thanks to his drunk of a father who thankfully had not been seen in months now.

Tears threatened to spill again but Victor held them back as he watched her. His mother continued to remain still, her dark brown hair strewn out across a tattered and stained pillow they had scrounged. The rest of her body was concealed by her billowing patchwork dress but still managed to reveal her bony and frail form that lay beneath it.

Through blurry eyes Victor searched her face for the hundredth time regarding her pale stiff frame, slightly parted blue lips and hollow, sunken eyes that had glazed over long ago and now continued to stare, unseeing, at the holey tin roof above them.

Victor's stomach suddenly screwed up into tight fiery knots, hot tears streaking down his dirty face, his thick black hair hanging into his big brown eyes.

He had known his mother had not been well but had been helpless to provide the support she needed. As a feeble substitute, Victor had taken to begging for money to acquire food, or at least enough for some stale bread from the town when he could.

Looking back, Victor guiltily acknowledged that his efforts had not been enough, and with his father barely present, her sickness had progressed.

Victor had tried to remain happy, tried to be positive, for her, and had hugged her and had often stroked her back after another one of her hollow coughing fits, trying to comfort her in some way but only seeming to make her even more sad.

And now…now she had stopped coughing and gone to sleep. Victor wasn't completely oblivious to death and knew a few of its signs, but he had never witnessed it quite like this.

His mother was dead and he was all alone. He had to accept it or he would never be able to leave and survive his dreadful fate.

Victor hopped into bed beside his late mother, still clutching her hand tightly and lay down beside her, his small body not yet reaching her shoulders.

He closed his red eyes against the world, trying to shut down his senses against her cold dead touch and against the grim realization.

Exhaustion slowly enveloped young Victor, his last thoughts thinking of the day to come as the rain continuing to pelt down relentlessly and he was swallowed by the darkness.

**I know that was fairly sad/depressing but that's basically what this focuses on and builds from. **

**As a side note -I have not read any comics concerning x men so if you have any pre conceived ideas or if this fanfic does not follow the facts it is because I am making my own interpretation of events and will continue to do so.**


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